Page 67 of Wrecked on the Mountain
"I pay attention," I say, settling on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under my weight, and she shifts closer, looking up at me with doe eyes.
That's when they do this slow, deliberate sweep down my bare chest, lingering on my abs before traveling back up to meet my gaze. The look in her eyes has shifted from sleepy gratitude to something much more. Something… hungrier.
"Jamie," she says softly, setting her mug on the nightstand.
"Yeah?"
"Come here."
It's not a request. It's a command, delivered in that same confident tone she uses when she's being a doctor. And fuck me, it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard.
I set my own mug down and move closer, letting her guide me until I'm standing at the side of the bed, her sitting up so she's at eye level with my chest.
"I want to thank you properly," she murmurs, her hands coming up to rest on my abs. "For yesterday."
Her palms are warm, soft, and when she starts tracing the ridges of muscle with her fingertips, I have to bite back a groan.
"Brooke," I start, but she's not listening.
Her touch grows bolder, more deliberate, mapping every line and curve of my abs like she's memorizing me. When she leans forward and presses her lips to my sternum, right over my heart, I lose the ability to form coherent thoughts.
"Mmmmm… You took such good care of me," she whispers against my skin. "Let me take care of you."
Fuck. Her tongue darts out, tracing a line down my chest, tasting salt and skin and making me instantly harder than I've ever been in my life.
My hands find her hair without conscious thought, fisting in the silky strands as she continues her slow exploration. Every kiss, every lick, every gentle scrape of teeth sends shockwaves straight to my cock.
"Brooke," I groan, and she looks up at me with eyes that are dark with want.
"I love the way you say my name," she murmurs, her hands sliding lower, fingers tracing the V that disappears into my boxer briefs. "Say it again."
"Brooke." Her name comes out rough, desperate.
She smiles a wicked, confident smile that's nothing like the nervous woman who couldn't split firewood two weeks ago.
Her hand continues diving into my boxers, and she tugs at the waistband.
"These need to go," she says, grabbing my dick with a firm squeeze. "Quickly."
Jesus Christ.
I hook my thumbs in the elastic and push them down, freeing my aching cock. Brooke's eyes widen as looks down at her hand wrapped around me, and the hunger in her expression makes me feel like a fucking god.
"You're..." she starts, then trails off, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
"I'm what?" I ask, my voice barely recognizable.
"Perfect," she breathes, and then her hand is moving up and down my shaft.
I swear to fucking God, I see stars.
Brooke's hand moves along my shaft with slow, deliberate strokes, her thumb occasionally brushing over the sensitive tip. The confident way she handles me is fucking mesmerizing.
"You like that?" she murmurs, looking up through her lashes with a smile that's too fucking sexy.
I can only grunt in response, my hips involuntarily jerking forward into her grip. Her hand is soft but her grip is firm, like she knows exactly how much pressure to apply.Surgeon's hands.
"I'll take that as a yes," she says with a husky laugh.
